The Past

sometimes it feels like I'm the last of my kind like I came back too early or too late and this is all for naught so disconnected I feel floating and barely tangible conversely it feels like I'm so in tune that I feel ashamed for ever doubting myself it quickly fades. who am I? the more memories that flood my brain the less I recognize my reflection what did I do? I see faces in this life floating in front of souls I've met before so many have gone and I'm partly to blame Is power an illusion? at night flickers and glimpses of answers to questions I've forgotten drift through my ears only to be perished by morning the madness. like claws wanting to rip through my chest. so close to knowing and understanding but it all slips through my fingers like sand. the veil is enticing but I'm tired of the cycle, so here I remain. someday. sometimes. I will remember and then I'll be lost to the void until I forget again.